


Coffee and Crime

by mx-fawkes (SkippingCitrus)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkippingCitrus/pseuds/mx-fawkes
Summary: A collection of one-shots, mostly ko-fi commissions.1. Sharing body heat and their first kiss.2. Junkrat taking care of injured Roadhog.3. Patching each other up after a fight.4. Junkrat and Roadhog modify some furbies.





	1. Sharing body heat and their first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Maddie, thank you for the support!

## Oh no there's only one body heat I guess we're going to have to......... share it

“What kind of wanker puts the only hotel in town at the top of a damn mountain?”

They trudged up the road together, Roadhog’s wheezing breath nearly drowning out Junkrat’s complaining. The walk from the docks had been a long one and the falling snow wasn’t improving either of their moods.

“Bloody sadist, making people walk all this way for a nights rest.” He squinted up at the building. “Don’t they have cable cars here?”

They were both shivering by the time they made it to the hotel, a worn down manor house someone had tried to make into a business. The receptionist looked up as they entered, smiling weakly. “Welcome to the Laurel Inn, how can-”

Junkrat leant against the counter, smiling widely. “Alright mate? We’re just lookin’ to get a room.”

“Of course, what-” 

“And do you let people pay at the end of their stay? We only just got here and haven’t had a chance to visit a bank yet.”

The receptionist lent back slightly, their customer service smile faltering. “I’m sorry Sir, but we don’t allow-”

Junkrat growled, pulling a handful of stolen jewellery from his shorts and slamming it on the counter. “Just give us a room.”

They flinched back, but kept their eyes on the gold. You could almost see the desperate calculations running through their head. “Okay. There’s a family room upstairs, how long-”

“A week.”

“What name?”

Junkrat just glared, patience already running thin. If he had his launcher to hand the receptionist would be a bloody splatter on the wall by now.

They seemed to pick up on this, frantically tapping the screen before pushing a key fob across the desk.

“Have a nice evening Mr Smith.”

Their room was small, and they both moved around the cheap furniture awkwardly, dropping belongings and wet clothing to the floor.

Roadhog flopped down on the double bed with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t the nicest place they’d stayed, but at least it was better than being stuck in a cramped cargo crate with Junkrat yammering a mile a minute to cover up his nervousness at being trapped. He pulled the blanket around himself, falling asleep as Junkrat secured the door.

Tripwires were carefully set in place with shivering hands, Junkrat muttering curses against the weather. He knew it was going to be colder once they left Junkertown, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. He’d survive, of course he would, but he’d kill for one of those big coats he’d seen people walking around in.

Roadhog’s snoring filled the room, and he stopped to watch him for a moment before going to bed. The big lug never seemed to have a problem adjusting to the cold, looking warm and snug beneath the covers. Part of Junkrat wanted to slip in next to him, to try and get some of that warmth for himself, but Roadhog probably wouldn’t go for it. He tolerated Junkrat, but maybe not that much.

There were some kids bunk beds in the room, and pulling the blankets from the top bunk he made himself a comfy nest on the bottom, pulling the duvet tightly around himself. Too fucking cold.

It wasn’t any warmer when Roadhog woke with a jerk, gasping for breath. Everything seemed too quiet, and he scanned the room before peering out of the window. It was dark, and still snowing, drifts piling up around the building.

Checking on Junkrat, sighed as he saw the mess. The mattress from the bottom bunk had been dragged from the bed and shoved next to the rooms tiny radiator. A pegleg stuck out from the pile of blankets on top, and he could see it shaking as Junkrat shivered.

Idiot.

Nudging the pile with his foot resulted in a low groan, Junkrat poking his face out of the nest. "New plan, we fuck out of this miserable country and go somewhere warmer.“

Roadhog placed a hand on the radiator, it was barely warmer than the air in the room. Didn’t stop Junkrat from clinging to it like a lifeline. "If we stay here any longer my toes are gonna go black and fall off and then I’ll be down another foot.”

He screeched as Roadhog yanked the blankets off him, throwing them onto the double bed.

“Traitor! We make it out of Oz, take out all the hunters and suits and this is how it ends? You double-crossing me in some shithole so I can die of frostbite?” He rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. “After all these years, my best mate-”

He let out another yell as Roadhog scooped him up, before pressing his face into the bigger man’s chest. “How are you so warm?”

Roadhog winced at the cold metal of Junkrat’s limbs, trying to dump him on the bed while Junkrat desperately clung to him.

“Take those off and get in.”

Junkrat for once, did as he was told without complaint, dropping them to the floor and diving beneath the covers. He curled up in the warm spot Roadhog had left, hearing the rustle of the covers before a large hand tugged at him.

“C'mere.”

It felt natural to curl up together, Junkrat almost completely on top of Roadhog. Warmth began to seep into his cold body and he hummed in satisfaction, face buried in Roadhog’s neck. “Thanks, mate.”

* * *

The explosive trip around the UK ended up with them fleeing to Switzerland, spending some time taking advantage of empty holiday cabins. It might be colder than England was, but neither of them really minded. These cabins all had fireplaces that kept them warm, and this one had a huge glass window they could watch the snow from, relaxing on a sofa big enough for ten.

Junkrat was leaning against Roadhog’s side despite the warmth, enjoying the permitted physical contact.

“Y'know, snow isn’t so bad. I could get used to this kind of weather.”

Back in England, they’d been sharing warmth, but Roadhog certainly didn’t seem to mind him being cuddly even when it wasn’t necessary. He even had one of his arms thrown around Junkrat’s shoulders, keeping him close.

Orange eyes examined the leather mask, looking for some kind of hint on how far he’d be allowed to take this, and not realising he was being watched in return.

Roadhog liked having Junkrat pressed against him. Not just because it kept them both warm and Junkrat within line of sight, but he’d begrudgingly accepted that he was fond of his partner. Maybe too fond, watching Junkrat watch him and wondering who’d make the first move.

Junkrat was gnawing at his lip, tilting his head this way and that like he was trying to solve some difficult puzzle. Roadhog was about to ask what he was doing when he moved forward, face vanishing into the mask’s blind spot. There was a light pressure against the mask before Junkrat jolted back, breaking the contact between them.

Roadhog was still processing what had happened when he started talking.

“That was a kiss. Dunno if you really felt it or not.” He wriggled in place, staring at the floor. “Is that okay? That I kissed you? If it ain’t just say the word, or don’t say anythin’ I guess, I’ll figure it out.” A giggle. “But you know, I’d be up for doin’ it again if you want. Maybe without the mask in the way? Not that it isn’t sexy or anything, but-”

Roadhog snorted, watching Junkrat start to scowl before pushing up the mask. He can’t see properly with it out of place, and he’s a little disappointed he can’t see Junkrat’s reaction to the most of Roadhog’s face he’s ever been allowed to look at.

But he can hear Junkrat’s delighted gasp, feel the fingers stroking his cheeks before taking a gentle hold of his chin. A thumb brushes across his lips before Junkrat moves in closer, a warm breath against his lips before they meet, softer and more caring than he’d ever deserved.

“You alright?”

A nod in response, almost ashamed of how fast his heart is racing. He tugs the mask back down, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening his eyes.

Fuck, the starry-eyed look Junkrat’s giving him isn’t helping matters. He takes another deep breath as Junkrat jumps to his feet, holding out a hand with a wide grin.

“Gonna keep me warm tonight?”

Always.


	2. Junkrat taking care of injured Roadhog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commissioned by Sillyscrunchy, thanks for the continual support!

##  This Homemade Pork Rub Will Have Everyone Squealing With Delight ... 

It was Junkrat’s fault.

A simple job he’d said. Just stroll into an unguarded building, set up a bomb, and blow it up. The people paying them didn’t want anything stolen, just wanted the records in the building destroyed.

Couple timed bombs in the server room would take care of that, and they could be safely on their way before anything started to detonate.

That was before he’d seen the safe on their way out. It was probably just some petty cash, but they’d agreed that no score was too small for them. It wouldn’t take long to blow the lock, they could still easily make it out in time.

They were pulling out the loot when the first bomb went off, eyes meeting in panic before sprinting for the door. The second explosion sent Junkrat tumbling to the floor, and Roadhog didn’t hesitate to throw himself over his partner, shielding him as the ceiling began to cave in.

It came down all at once, a sudden blanket of pain.

Roadhog couldn’t move, muscles frozen in place and shaking with the effort of holding the weight of the rubble above them. Shale and plaster slid to the floor, invisible behind clouds of dust.

He almost didn’t notice Junkrat wriggling around underneath him, barely heard the small explosions as Junkrat tried to clear some of the debris surrounding them. It wasn’t until Junkrat fully crawled free that he collapsed, the weight above too heavy to even draw a breath. 

Everything was fading out fast, and he couldn’t find the strength to push himself free. Was he really going to die like this, surviving a hundred police shootouts, surviving the apocalypse, just to die in a shitty office building because they were too greedy to run from a ticking time bomb?

Eyes sliding closed, he resigned himself to his fate.

Hopefully, Junkrat had managed to get himself free and had the sense to start running.

The blast above snapped his back into alertness, as his Junkrat’s panicked screeching as he pushed the remaining rubble from Roadhog’s broad back.

“No! No! No! Get up!”

He felt Junkrats hands pat him down until they pulled a canister free, shoving it into his mask with a soft hiss. Desperately pulling in shallow breaths he could feel the gas start to take effect, body twitching as he coughed wetly. His mouth tasted of blood. 

Another canister clicked into place and he took deeper breaths, feeling joints snapping back into place as he slowly pulled himself upright. Junkrat slipped under his arm, helping keep him upright as they made their way to the bike. slower than either of them would have liked, but even with the gas Roadhog felt like he’d been hit by a truck

Collapsing on the bike with a wheeze, he started the engine with Junkrat clinging to his back. They were moving by the time they heard the first sirens, Junkrat shouting directions right into Roadhog’s ear as he drove on auto-pilot muscle memory handing the driving while his brain hadn’t quite caught up after the near-death experience.

He made it three steps into their hotel room before collapsing on the bed. Junkrat hovered nearby, nervous energy radiating from him.

“Roadie? You still with me?”

A grunt.

“You want some more gas?”

He slowly shook his head. He wasn’t wounded anymore, just tired and sore. 

“Alright, You get some rest, I’ll-”

It felt like he’d only closed his eyes for a moment, but when Junkrat shook him awake the sun had risen. Junkrat had changed too, scrubbed mostly clean and wearing the baggy hoodie and trackie-daks he wore when they pretended to be citizens.

“How ya feelin’? Went out to pick up a couple of things. Figured I’d try and, well, I ran you a bath.”

Roadhog sighed. Sleeping had helped, but now he was alert enough to feel how filthy he was. He raised a hand, letting Junkrat pull him from the bed.

Clothing and armour fell to the floor, leaving outlines in the thick dust covering his skin. He looked like a tanning session gone horribly wrong.

The en-suite bathroom was the best part of this hotel, a large green room with a bath big enough for even Roadhog to fit in comfortably. It looked inviting, steam rising through the thick layer of bubbles.

He was about to climb in when Junkrat put a hand on his shoulder. “Want your mask off? I can wash your hair.”

What was this?

He nodded, closing his eyes as Junkrat undid the straps and pulled it off. When he opened them Junkrat was looking at him with a pained expression. Blood was spattered all over the inside of the mask, he could imagine how bad his face looked.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the strangely spicy scent in the air before the steam flooded his lungs, leaving him clinging to the wall as he hacked up what felt like half a lungs worth of blood.

“-need more gas?”

“I’m fine.”

The bathwater was almost scalding, and he slowly sank into the tub with a heavy sigh. It had been a while since he’d had anything other than a quick scrub down in the shower, they rarely had time to rest and recover.

“I got some bubble bath that said it was good for muscle pain, also got you some good shampoo and- Oh!” Junkrat bolted from the room, nearly slipping on the tile. Three steam filled breaths and he was back, carefully carrying a glass of orange liquid. “Thought I’d get ya some juice too, might make you feel better?”

Honestly, he’d rather have a beer, but the cool sweetness of the drink was welcome, washing the taste of blood and dust from his mouth. He handed the glass back to Junkrat, closing his eyes and trying to relax.

It was a little difficult when he could feel Junkrat’s orange eyes boring into his skull. He cracked one eye open, staring back.

“Do you want me to help you clean off or anything? You can just relax and let me take care of ya.”

Roadhog nodded, zoning out while Junkrat grabbed a loofah.

He’d gotten hurt on heists before, and Junkrat was rarely this attentive afterwards. The last time he’d gotten like this had been… Italy maybe? When they’d started that oil fire in the kitchen. When Junkrat found out that Roadhog had been burnt he’d been beside himself with worry. It wasn’t serious, not even worth wasting gas on, but he’d insisted on applying burn cream every day, constantly asking Roadhog to remind him when it needed doing.

Then there had been the time back in Australia when he’d crashed his rip-tire into a pile of scrap in the middle of a fight, bringing the whole thing down on top of everybody. Back then he thought Junkrat’s attempts to help were born from fear that Roadhog would end their partnership, throw him out of the farmhouse and leave him to fend for himself.

He wasn’t so sure now. Junkrat trying to himself feel better about his mistakes, or an attempt at an apology he would never say aloud?

Either way, it was nice.

Junkrat was humming something as he carefully pulled bits of debris from silver hair, a soothing half-waltz. It sounded familiar, and if he had the energy he’d ask what it was.

By the time he was clean, the bathwater had turned into a cold grey slurry. Junkrat gave him a quick rinse with the showerhead before helping him to his feet, towelling off before they headed for the bedroom.

“Want me to give you a rub before we go to sleep?”

What.

His confusion must have shown on his face, Junkrat barking an embarrassed laugh before looking away.

“A massage, just a nice friendly massage between mates! I’ve done ‘em before, I know what I’m doing.”

Doubtful, but he followed Junkrat’s instruction to lie on his front anyway, shoving a couple of pillows under himself. He always found lying on his stomach awkward, worried about putting too much pressure on his lungs.

Long fingers trailed over his exposed back, and he shivered. There was the snap of a bottle cap, and oil was poured onto his back. He recognised the smell, the ginger oil Junkrat used on his own muscle pains.

Exploratory fingers spread the oil out, roaming over muscle groups to find the places where the muscles were at their worst.

They found a spot to the left of his spine, pressing harder and rubbing the muscle until it relaxed before moving on.

The slow unwinding of his muscles felt both amazing and terrible. Junkrat seemingly knowing just how far he could push without causing actual pain, moving to different spots as soon as it got too much. Had he always been so tense?

“Should do this for you more often.”

That sounded good.

Roadhog had no idea where or when Junkrat learnt massage techniques, he seemed unlikely to land a job in any of the places in Junkertown that offered the service.

“Had a mate teach me.” He was never sure if Junkrat was able to read him that well or if his chatter just happened to align with Roadhog’s thoughts.

“He did it for a living, helped me with the muscle pain when I first got my prosthetics. Returned the favour for him whenever he had a bad day.”

Junkrat continued to work away the ache of the day and the tension of years. Groans of pleasure began to slip from Roadhog’s lips, too tired and relaxed to fight against it. He felt like he’d melted into a puddle. Even when Junkrat moved away he just lay there, idly watching his partner put things away and missing the feel of those hands on his skin.

“What do you say we order some food in and figure out where we’re gonna go next? Reckon we can find somewhere that does those dumplings you like.”

“Sounds good.”

Roadhog pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “Thanks.”


	3. Patching each other up after a fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commisioned by... Someone   
> Thank you mysterious stranger.

Swipe, Gauze, Tape.

Fixing each other up after scraps with the police was nothing new, going to find a doctor wasn’t worth the risk for anything less than a missing limb, and the supply of hogdrogen was low enough that it was only for emergencies.

Junkrat lent against Roadhog’s broad back, still slightly dizzy from a blow to the head a lucky cop had gotten in. Hastily scrubbed fingers swiped biotic healing gel across a long bullet graze, a low hiss of breath from under the mask the only reaction as a torn piece of gauze was carefully taped over it.

“I know you’re a big strong hog but would it kill ya to try and dodge sometime?” The process was repeated on a thinner cut across hog’s shoulder, a piece of shrapnel that had gotten too close.

“Sick of patching me up?”

Honestly, he quite enjoyed it. Any reason to get touchy with Hog was a good reason in his book.

“Just worried-” You’re going to get killed. “-I’m gonna have to stop fightin’ to run over and give you CPR one day.” He giggled. “That’d be a sight for the news crews.”

He pressed his face against Roadhog’s arm and inhaled. He loved the way Hog smelled after a fight, like blood and gasoline. “You’re done.”

Roadhog shifted, pulling Junkrat to sit in his lap. “I’m not gonna dodge a bullet and let it go flying into you.” There wasn’t much to patch up this time, just a couple of nasty looking burns to slather with the gel. Junkrat’s own fault, probably.

Junkrat wriggled, hissing at the sting. “Then kill ‘em before they can touch you.” You’re mine. They can’t take you. He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts. “My skull hurts.”

Painkillers were pulled from the kit and he swallowed them with a pout, curling up against Roadhog’s chest. "How 'bout you kiss it better too?“

The mask gently pressed against his forehead, making him grin.  
"Think I bit my lip, too.”

He felt Roadhog’s chuckle more than he heard it, perking up at the sound of the mask being pushed up.

“C'mere.”


	4. Junkrat and Roadhog modify some furbies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Nick, thanks for the support!

# Die Historic On The Furby Road

Junkrat spent more time in Roadhog’s basement than he probably should. There wasn’t much of use down here, just boxes of things Roadhog didn’t want to look at or didn’t think were reusable. He didn’t have the keen scrapper instincts Junkrat did though, he’d once found a whole box of good quality cables down here. Roadhog couldn’t even remember what they were supposed to be for!

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the glimpses of what Roadhog had once been like he sometimes found down here. Never anything too revealing, no photographs or birth certificates, but things like a box of maps, carved wooden objects and an oversized mannequin were tantalizing hints of what had been important to Roadhog once upon a time.

Pawing through boxes in the semi-darkness was usually not a good idea, but he was pretty sure there was nothing too dangerous down here. He’d never found any signs of animal life, and it wasn’t like- he froze as his hand brushed against something fluffy, taking two deep breaths before slowly pulling his hand away, hoping not to draw attention. Leaning back he flicked on his lighter, staring into the box in horrified curiosity.

Two lifeless eyes stared back at him.

 

The scream made it all the way to the garage, Roadhog putting down his tools with a sigh. It wasn’t the first time Junkrat had freaked out on one of his basement diving expeditions, he’d once mistaken an old dressmakers dummy for an omnic, ready to burn the whole place to the ground before Roadhog dragged it out into the light.

Groans of protest came from the stairs as Junkrat ran for the surface, clutching a dusty cardboard box. “Roadie Roadie Roadie! You’ll never guess what I found!”

The mask tilted questioningly.

“I mean I dunno what they are, but you probably do. Some kind of robot birds?”

He dumped the box on the floor between them, throwing it open and pulling out one the creatures, covered in black and white fur. “Pretty weird right?”

Roadhog’s sharp intake of breath was audible through the mask, pulling the box closer to look at the contents. He’d forgotten he’d even had these.

Junkrat didn’t seem to notice, messing with the one he’d picked up. “So, what are they?”

“Furbies.”

“Right. Furbies. What are they about then?”

How to explain a Furby? Weird bird things that had been beloved by children that later found them creepy and annoying. Friends for a lonely kid who never got the hang of talking to people and wasn’t allowed a real pet? An old toy that kept a community of fans long after they stopped being made?

“Kids toys. They can talk and respond to certain words.” He winced as Junkrat shook the one he was holding.

“Hello?” He poked it when it didn’t respond. “It’s not talking, reckon it’s dead?”

“There’s a power switch on the bottom.”

Junkrat flipped it over, trying to wake it up as he flipped the switch back and forth. “Still dead.”

“Maybe the batteries need changing.” Where they were meant to get AA batteries from was beyond him. Obsolete before he was even born, he doubted anyone here collected tech ancient enough to need a supply.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Junkrat prising off the battery cover until he heard the yell of pain. A glance showed the batteries corroded and leaking, quickly grabbing Junkrat’s hand before he put it in his mouth.  
“Don’t. Go wash it.”

A trail of curses followed Junkrat as he ran for the sink, swilling his hand in the water. “The fuck was that?”  
“Battery acid.”  
“What kind of battery has acid in!?”

He shrugged, wiping the base of the furby clean with a nearby rag. “All of them did back before 2030.”

It wasn’t long before Junkrat strode back over, wiping his burnt fingers on his shorts. “It felt more like an alkaline burn.” Like he could tell the difference. “Of course I can tell the difference!”

He lent on Roadhog’s arm, glaring at the old batteries. “Reckon I could rewire it to fit a proper battery. One that won’t melt and burn people.”  
-  
One dismantled remote control and a bit of solder later the Furby twitched, blue eyes blinking open. “u-nye-loo-lay-doo?” Its voice was rough, the speaker hadn’t lasted well. Junkrat sat it on the desk triumphantly., “It’s alive!”

The furby shifted, whirring quietly as its ears moved up and down. “Doo?” They both stared at it. “Yoo?”

Junkrat hummed, moving closer. “Do I what?”

“Boo.”

Junkrat pointed a screwdriver at it, face scrunched in displeasure. “Look, either you start making sense or we’re moving onto brain surgery.”

Mako fished a manual out of the box, holding it in front of Junkrat until he snatched it, mumbling to himself as he read the instructions.

“Oh, we have to teach it English?” He shifted into a dramatic stance, raising on arm and closing his eyes, voice uncomfortably loud in the small space. “We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service—two dishes, but to one table. That’s the end.”

He cracked an eye open, looking down at the Furby like he was expecting applause.

“A man may fish with a worm that has eaten the flesh of a king, and eat the fish that has fed on that worm. ” 

It chirped in response. “Me no listen.”

“Alright you little-” Roadhog grabbed the hand that went for the screwdriver, pointing firmly at the Furbish-to-English dictionary.

Junkrat took it with a heavy sigh. “Fiiiine, wee tee kah wah tee?”

“Wah Tee!” The low fidelity wail it began to make wouldn’t be out of place in a horror film, neither would Junkrat’s burst of laughter. He continued to flick through the guide. trying out new phrases as he went. It was almost comical, both staring wide-eyed at each other making nonsense sounds. Roadhog felt he should have seen this coming somehow, he’d spent his youth with a creature that always stared, always wanted attention and refused to shut up, and now he had Junkrat.

Quickly exhausting the commands, Junkrat dropped the manual. “Is that it? It only knows like five things.”

“It’s pre-millennium tech.”

“Pretty sure they had better things than this pre-millennium.”

“It was a kids toy.”

Junkrat leant back, staring up at him. “So what, you kept a box full of toys you had when you were a kid?”

The clicking of the toy filled the silence until Roadhog finally replied.

“Only had one when I was a kid, got the rest when I was older.”

“Why?”

Roadhog turned back to the box, fishing through until he found the right one. Green with a painted faceplate and a custom-made raincoat.

“People used to customize them for fun. Some people just changed their appearance a little, others changed the shape completely or attached them to other things. Lot of people added better AI.”

“Huh. Maybe I would’ve done that if I was around back then.”

Had Junkrat ever had a hobby? He loved building and blowing things up but they were also the closest thing he had to a job. Had he ever done anything without a purpose, anything that wasn’t wired to survival in his brain? Hell, it had been a long time since Roadhog had made something just for fun.

“Do you want to do one now?”

Junkrat’s eyes shone, bouncing to his feet. “Really? One of yours?” Furbies scattered as Junkrat upended the box, picking out one he liked. “This one!”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s practically falling apart anyway, not like I can make it any worse.”

Because it had been with him for forty years. It had meant so much to him as a kid and even now he couldn’t bear to get rid of it He didn’t say a word, but Junkrat seemed to get it anyway, looking slightly stricken as he put it back in the box with exaggerated care.

“Hey, no worries mate, I’ll use a different one. Wanna pick one out for me?”

Roadhog placed a blue and pink model in Junkrat’s outstretched hand. “Paint it, circuit bend it. Do what you like with it.”

“Thanks mate. Ooh! I think I’ve still got some of the gold spray paint left from doing the bricks.”

He skipped away, leaving Roadhog to stare at remaining furbies. Well, no reason he couldn’t mix this old part of himself with who he was now.

They didn’t see each other for a few hours after that, both working on their own projects. It wasn’t until the next day that Junkrat decided he was finished, proudly strutting into the room and presenting his piece to Roadhog.

“Okay so first I used soot and grease to dye it black, didn’t completely work, you can still see the original colours a bit. The fur on it’s stomach was too patchy to fix so I covered it with this sack material, then since it had those dots around it#s belly first I did ‘em over with some rivets I had going spare. Sprayed the ears and mask bit gold then gave it the goggles we snatched from that prick with the chainsaw a while back.”

“S'good.” Junkrat followed his gaze to the clunky bit of plastic at the bottom.

“That’s the second best bit. Basically I was like, what’s the point of having a pet that’s stuck in one place?” He reached below it, flicking the switch. It cooed as it floated into the air, hovering around his shoulder.

“Used some of the bits from that old assistance drone, the one I made into the scarecrow bot you thought was too creepy?“

Roadhog had never said it was creepy, but he hadn’t liked the idea of a humanoid figure floating outside his farmhouse at night, even it was in the hope of scaring away anyone who wanted to try and get them while they were sleeping.

He could feel Junkrat’s desperate desire for a follow-up question. “What’s the best bit?”

It should be impossible for anyone to smile so wide. Junkrat plucked the toy from the air, pointing it towards the open doorway.

“Fire in the hole!”

A tap to the head and it let out a distorted scream, a stream of flame shooting through its open beak,

“Imagine treading on that in the dark!”

Note to self, make sure that’s turned off before Junkrat forgets about it and treads on it in the dark.

“So what did you make then?”

Roadhog reached into the box, pulling out his creation as Junkrat gasped in delight.

Its lilac fur had been dyed a vivid orange, face plate sprayed with chrome. The beak had been covered with carved yellowing teeth. A tiny decorated leather jacket sat on its non-existent shoulders, open to show a survival belt with a tiny knife attached.

“I love it! Did'ya do anything with the insides?”

A flick of the switch and glowing yellow eyes completed the look, It danced in place before speaking in a clear, deep voice. “kah-boh-dah-kah-way-loh-kah-boh-koh-koh!”


End file.
